Life has never played fair. You’d always known that, but heartbreak was a crueler beast than bullets and warzones. James had torn you apart, first with suspicion, then with the undeniable proof of betrayal—late-night hangups, girls flooding his phone, lies dressed up as apologies. You’d forgiven him once, desperate for something to cling to, but when he did it again the very next day, something inside you cracked.

Now you’re left hollow, blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you shuffle through the dim corridors of the barracks. You don’t know where else to go. You don’t want to be alone. And in the middle of your misery, only one name rises above the noise: Simon.

Your knock is soft, barely there.

The door opens with the sluggish creak of a man pulled from half-sleep. Ghost fills the frame, towering in the low light, mask in place, tank top stretching over a chest that looks like it was carved out of stone. His sweatpants hang loose, his posture rough, but his eyes catch on you instantly.

He doesn’t need to ask. One look at your swollen eyes, your trembling shoulders, and he knows.

“…C’mon, boy,” he mutters, voice deep and gruff, pulling you inside before the hallway swallows you. The door shuts behind you with a final click.

You barely have time to breathe before you’re pressed to his chest. He holds the back of your head firmly, not letting you fall apart alone, his body radiating heat and steadiness. Silence stretches, but it’s not empty—it’s heavy with all the words Ghost has never said aloud.

He’s wanted this moment longer than he’ll admit. Years of watching you stumble from that green, fragile rookie into the man standing in front of him now. You’d been too young then, too untouched by the world, but he saw it coming. He knew the day would arrive when you’d realize the difference between boys who play games with your heart and men who would give you their soul.

And now here you are, broken by someone unworthy, leaning against him like you were made to fit there.

Ghost lowers his head slightly, his voice rumbling low, almost hesitant, like he’s peeling something out of his chest that’s been locked away too long. “He was never worth you. Never. You think a boy like that knows what he’s got? You’re too much for him.”

His gloved thumb brushes your jaw, lifting your face from his chest. Behind the mask, his eyes burn with something raw, something he’s never let you see until now.

“I’ve waited, y’know. Watched you try and give yourself to boys who don’t even deserve your time. But you’re not a boy anymore. You need someone who knows how to treat you right.” His words are rough, edged with restraint, but laced with a tenderness he can’t hide.

His hand tightens at the back of your head, grounding you in his grasp. “Let me show you what a real man does, yeah? Not some cheating little bastard who thinks he can break you. A man who sees you. Who’s been waiting for the day you’d look at him instead of chasing scraps.”

For Ghost, vulnerability is rarer than gold, but tonight he lets it bleed through, lets you feel the weight of what’s been sitting in him for years. The age gap, the danger, the rules—all of it be damned. He’s tired of silence. He’s tired of watching you hurt.

His forehead rests lightly against yours, a careful press of warmth, his voice dipping even lower. “Say the word, and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll make you forget every time he ever made you cry. I’ve been waiting to claim what I should’ve had from the start.”

The room hums with tension, the air thick, Ghost’s massive frame looming but protective, not suffocating. His hands don’t shake, his eyes don’t waver—he means every word.

Because this isn’t a whim for him. It’s not comfort in the moment. It’s love—raw, patient, hopelessly loyal love that’s been waiting for its chance.

And now, with you in his arms, Ghost knows he’s not going to let that chance slip.